


At Home

by DeeNomilk



Series: Tashok the Dragonborn [23]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Domestic af, Filler, wee bit of angst at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-24 19:30:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20912921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeeNomilk/pseuds/DeeNomilk
Summary: Tashok is now finally home, and gets some time to breathe as the disturbances of the past begin to settle. Almost. She still needs to discuss the issue of she and Inigo's "shared past".





	At Home

**Author's Note:**

> Oh hey, Tashok (the character) is a year old starting this month! Woohoo ^_^

Tashok’s underwater, though she can’t quite remember how she got here. She glances about, trying to figure out where the surface is. It’s not easy. Up is dark, down is dark. She gets the answer to her unspoken question when the water begins to boils, sending bubbles flickering upwards.

Emboldened by the knowledge, she follows the stream up with a rising panic. The water goes from hot to scalding, and it doesn’t take long for the pain to become unbearable.

She reaches the surface, but while the bubbles are granted freedom above, she’s trapped.

Her escape is blocked by a metal grate, seemingly as unending as the water.

The burning pain cuts at her skin, like a thousand hot blades slashing across every inch of her body simultaneously.

The panic bubbles upwards within her. She opens her mouth to scream. For help, in pain. But no sounds come out. Just as she thinks this might be the end, her vision flickers.

She awakens with a gasp, throwing the covers away violently.

When her mouth doesn’t fill with boiling liquid, she starts coming back to reality and readjusting her confused mind. She looks straight ahead and, despite the darkness, recognizes her surroundings as her room in Falkreath.

The understanding of what happened dawns on her, prompting her to bring her face into her hands to steady herself. She feels heavy drips of sweat, maybe even some tears against her palms as they touch her face.

“Of course it’s a nightmare…” she mutters to herself.

Thankfully Pearl isn’t on her bed. Or rather, wasn’t in the bed prior to her waking up, if the lack of an irate Pearl on the ground is any indication.

Tashok sighs and stands on wobbly legs, suddenly needing to be as cold as possible. Anything to banish the scorching sensation away from her mind. Her shoulder protests as it hangs down, her arm pulling at the still tender muscles. With a wince, she takes the sling from the edge of her bed and slips it on haphazardly. Grabbing a cup of water from her nightstand, she silently makes her way down the steps.

Being quiet is one of her few talents, allowing her to slip away as often as she needs to without her family or friends being none the wiser.

It’s not that she keeps her nightmares a secret — she doesn’t. It’s more that she refuses to encumber anyone else with her own problems. It’s also that it’s four in the morning and it’d be rather rude to create a ruckus at this hour.

She slips into her thick coat, letting it hang open loosely on her as she scuttles out the door and into the frozen air. Her steps leave a trail in the snow surrounding her home as she rounds a corner, hoping to get a nice look out into the lake, mountains and darkened sky.

What she doesn’t expect is to see a familiar figure standing at the edge of the rocks, bundled in thick furs and looking out into the distance.

“Erandur?” her voice, shaky from the cold, pierces the night.

The figure jumps, turning around. He's startled by her presence, but quickly relaxes.

“What are you doing out here at this hour, my daughter?” Erandur asks.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Tashok replies, closing the distance. “How long have you been out here?”

Indeed, Erandur looks like he’s been out her for at least some time, judging by his slight shivering as well as his reddened nose and cheeks.

“An hour, perhaps.” Erandur says. “I haven’t much paid attention to the time.”

“You should, especially in the cold…” Tashok considers him. “Can’t sleep?”

“Nothing new here. You needn’t be concerned, my daughter.”

He looks at her carefully.

“And what of you?” he asks again. “What brings you out of your warm bed and into the freezing twilight?”

Tashok can’t help but smile. Erandur seems to have a talent for phrasing things in a vaguely poetic way. Must be his priest energy.

“I had a nightmare.” she tells him, looking into the distance. “Decided I’d need some fresh air.”

“Truly? I’ve noticed you’ve had a few… unrestful nights.” Erandur frowns. He grows silent for a few seconds before sighing. “…I’m so sorry.”

Tashok’s head snaps to him. His tone holds more than just sympathy. This holds guilt. _Remorse._

“What for?” she asks, puzzled.

“I assumed _my_ nightmares have been Vaermina’s way of punishing me for defying her…” he looks mournful. “I’m sorry to have burdened you with my problems. That you must endure her punishment as well…”

“No… It’s not your fault.”

She reaches for his arm with her good hand. She sees him abort the motion to pull away, instead staying still as she rests her hand just above his elbow.

“You need not try and comfort me, my daughter.” he looks down. “I must live with my decisions. My only regret is that you must suffer as well.”

“No! I mean. I’ve been having nightmares since before we met.” Tashok assures him, pressing closer, both to offer comfort and to ward off the cold. “It’s _really_ not your fault. And even if it was Vaermina’s doing, it still wouldn’t be. You wouldn’t be the one giving me nightmares, it’d be her.”

“…Well, I’m glad I’m not the source of your suffering. Nonetheless, it’s a pity you must live with nightmares. Dreadful things.”

“Meh…” Tashok shrugs, wincing a bit at the sharp pain from her shoulder as she does. “They’re not real. Once I wake up it’s all better.”

That's not completely true, but if she keeps saying it, it might become a reality. Hopefully.

“Mh… I suppose that’s one way to see it.”

Erandur lets a small smile dance on his lips as he looks to the distance once more. He brings a hand to cover Tashok’s increasingly cold one over his arm, tucking it in slightly into himself to keep it warm.

“You’re a good kid, Tashok.” he says.

Tashok’s body goes still, her eyes growing wide as she processes the words. Her mind wars with itself, both desperately wishing to take in the praise and admonishing her for wanting to believe it all at once. She isn’t sure how to reply to this. If she needs to reply.

“Oh, well… You know.” she fumbles, blushing and looking away. “No more than your average person, really… I’m just, I’m alright I guess but I’m nothing special…”

“No, you are.” Erandur insists. “Not anyone would’ve risked their life to help Dawnstar. Not just anyone would’ve laid their lives on the line to save their College. Or shown mercy to someone who hurt people you care about.”

“I guess…” Tashok still sounds dismissive.

But it’s not an outright denial, and so Erandur accepts this answer. The time he’s spent following her across Skyrim cemented his conviction that the events at the Nightcaller Temple weren’t just an anomaly, but a testament to the young Orc’s character. No doubt his choosing to follow her and help her family has made Mara proud.

“I’ve noticed…” he says as a thought springs up within his mind. “That you sometimes swear by Mara. Do you worship the Divines?”

“Wha…? Oh, em…” Tashok looks a bit embarrassed. “Not the other Divines… Just her. And I mean, it’s not as much worshiping as occasionally praying? Oh that sounds bad! Maybe I should worship a bit more, to balance out the prayers...”

“I’m sure she doesn’t mind.” Erandur chuckles. “We can show reverence to Mara by being kind and compassionate to those around us in our daily lives. You do plenty of that already.”

“Oh, that’s good! That she doesn’t mind and all…” Tashok seems a bit relieved.

“Still… One deity? That’s surprising.”

“It is? I… suppose? I mean, I guess I worship Malacath too… Well, again, not _worship_ worship, just… I pray sometimes to him? Being an Orc and all.”

Erandur nods.

“I suppose that is fitting.” he says. “Do you pray often?”

“Only when I need help.” Tashok admits.

Saying it out loud makes her feel a bit greedy. Perhaps she ought to pray just to tell the gods to have a nice week. Or is that rude?

“That’s as good a reason as any.” Erandur notes Tashok’s increased shivering. “Perhaps we should return inside and try out hand at sleeping again?”

“Good idea.” Tashok chuckles as he leads her inside.

She glances at her sleeping children for good measure, smiling as she sees Kit on Sofie’s bed and Pearl on Alesan’s, settling in. She brews herself a cup of lavender tea, hoping it will grant her some rest.

It does briefly, but the panic in her dreams return quickly. With a sigh, she opts to stay in bed, eyes closed, and simply rest, drifting in and out of a shallow sleep.

She begins to hear birds, ravens, she thinks, cawing outside while some of her family begins to stir. She hears small voices whispering, doing their best to stay quiet and utterly failing. Perhaps if she had human ear. But with her merfolk hearing, she picks up on a few words.

“Shhh. No don’t bother her!” she recognizes the voice as Lucia’s.

“But this is cool!” Alesan protests quietly.

“Give it here.” Ma’isha’s voice demands. “I’ll hold it.”

“What even is this?” Sofie’s voice perks up.

“That’s what we wanna ask!” Alesan replies.

Tashok is about to open her eyes and go investigate the source of the scene, when she realizes the steps and voices are approaching.

“You wake her up.” Alesan says quietly.

“No, you wake her up!” Tashok can hear Ma’isha’s pout. “I’m holding the thing!”

“I’ll go.” she hears Sofie say softly, before being shaken by a small hand. “Mama?”

“Yes?” Tashok opens one eye, smiling.

“Look at what we found in our bedroom!” Ma’isha sticks her hands right in front of Tashok’s face, who actually needs to back up a bit to see what she’s holding.

It’s a moth. A big one. 

It seems quite flustered at having being handled, and flies off spastically.

“Goodness!” Tashok’s eyes widen. 

“What is it, Mama?” Alesan asks.

“It’s a moth… Not sure what kind though… Hold on.” Tashok snatches the rattled creature into her good hand, casting a calming spell on it. “There…”

“How did you do that?” Alesan gasps. “Can you control animals?”

“The spell? It’s to calm things down. Bugs, animals… People too.” Tashok explains. “This little one must’ve been here a late arrival of sorts. Or early. Usually they don’t hatch until spring.”

“Can we keep it?” Ma’isha asks.

“The moth?!” Tashok chuckles. “I mean, we might as well keep it happy. I suspect it’s very old, you see… Our friend here won’t be staying alive for very long… Why don’t we…” she sets it on her nightstand as she winces and reaches for her sling. “Find it a nice jar, give it some flowers and fruits it can sip on. Who knows, maybe Mr. Dragonfly will have a chat with it.”

“Thanks Mama!” Ma’isha grins.

Tashok carefully scoops up the moth, who’s more or less accepted his confusing fate, with a little help from the calm spell. A few minutes later and he’s nestled comfortably in a jar with a filtered top and filled with various foods that would make any butterfly jealous.

“My my…” Lucien’s amused voice rings out from behind her. “What will Pearl say?”

“Oh shush…” Tashok rolls her eyes fondly. “The children found this little guy in their room. It wouldn’t do to send it back outside, not with all this snow.”

“Of course!” Lucien comes to inspect the moth. “Any idea what kind this is?”

“Nope.” Tashok lets her lips pop at the «p». “Don’t think we had those back in High Rock. What about you?”

“I’m afraid not. Most moths all look the same to me, quite frankly.”

Tashok chuckles at Lucien’s admission.

“Now, if you don’t mind me asking…” Lucien starts. “What comes next?”

“Next?” Tashok turns to him, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, and don’t take this the wrong way, ever since I met you, we’ve been going from one place to the other, keeping ourselves busy with, well, anything. Without ever really stopping. What are you going to be doing now?”

Tashok stares at him, taking in his words before a warm and happy smile spreads across her face.

“I’m going to do what I’ve been trying to do ever since I came to Skyrim: build a life. Live it.” she says. “I have my children, I have a source of income thanks to Brand-Shei and Madesi, and I intend on checking up with the College every once in a while.”

“So… no more adventuring?!”

“Well, maybe a little. It does bring in good money but… I want to be here. I do need to make sure the children get an education, after all.”

“Ah yes. Shaping the minds of the next generation.”

“All in all, I think I’ll stay around here, with occasional trips to Riften and Winterhold, for some time. Hey! That’ll give you some time to work on your research in Dumzbathar.”

“Right! Well, I suppose I’ll get going in a few days then. Do come and get me if you want me along.”

Tashok smiles at him.

“And you can always come find me if you start getting bored. Or lonely. Oh! And make sure to write! I know I will.”

“Splendid!”

“Now… I think I might make us all something to eat. I think only Illia and Inigo are still in bed.”

Tashok excuses herself to go to the kitchen area and, despite having a bit of trouble, manages to cut a few vegetables by taking off her sling and letting her arm rest on the table as it holds the food steady.

“You shouldn’t be pushing yourself.” she gets scolded by Illia when she enters the kitchen.

“It’s fine, really!” Tashok insists. “It doesn’t hurt when I do this. Besides, it’s been a while, I’m sure this won’t set me back too much.”

“You should still ask for help. The more you strain the longer it will take. Have you been putting on your salve?”

“I ran out a few days ago…” Tashok pouts. “Tried to make some more but I can’t seem to grind the flowers properly.”

“You could’ve asked one of us…” Illia points out as she begins to dice the tomatoes. “I’m not sure about Inigo or Lucien’s skills with alchemy, but I believe Erandur and I are quite decent at brewing potions. Nothing like you, mind you. But it’d be better than nothing.”

“Right.”

Tashok blushes. Truth be told she’d hoped that she could get to grinding the blue petals later today while everyone else was distracted.

“You weren’t going to tell us, were you?” Illia sounds a bit disappointed.

“I don’t want to bother you…” Tashok looks down.

“For crying out loud, Tash. You let me live here with you and your family in exchange for nothing.” Illia sighs. “The least I could do is help you recover.”

“But… I asked you to come here. You must have other things to do than act like an unpaid housecarl.”

Illia laughs.

“Not one bit. This place is much more pleasant than that musty old tower I’d call home.” she leans closer with a conspiratorial smile. “The company too…”

Tashok turns to her in surprise, blinking before giggling.

“I’m glad you like the children!” she smiles.

“Yes, them too.” Illia’s smile turns fond.

Once most of the eggs are cracked and cooking along with the tomatoes, onions and bits of bread, Illia insists Tashok go sit down and rest. Rest isn’t exactly what she does. Instead she reaches into the large backpack she carries across Skyrim and pulls out a book: **_Afflictions of the Mind and its Remedies_**.

She flips the book open, hoping for an index, but alas. She pouts as she skims over the pages to see anything close to what Mirabelle is experiencing. She slows down at the mention of unconsciousness: unconsciousness due to head injuries, unconsciousness due to lack of air, unconsciousness due to lack of food or water, unconsciousness due to magic.

Tashok thinks… The people at the College did mention that they believe the source of Mirabelle’s unresponsive slumber to be magical, although it is hard to know, as no one saw exactly what happened.

She groans. Why did the Psijic Order have to take the Orb away this quickly?! In the moment it had been a relief, a slight weight lifted from a mountain of problems piling onto Tashok’s mind. In hindsight however, perhaps keeping it longer to study its effects and how to fully undo it, waiting to see if there would be any fallout from the events and how to counter them. Now that it’s gone, all they have is its memory. And some painful reminders.

By oblivion, the Psijics could have stayed and helped them learn more of the Orb’s functioning.

She groans, bringing her forehead down onto the paper.

“Did you get to the contrived conflict in a saucy romance novel?” Inigo asks when he sees her.

“I wish…” Tashok lifts the cover to show the title.

“Ah, I see…” Inigo’s face is filled with sympathy. “Perhaps I could take you away from your research to have you, indulge in the omelettes you and Illia prepared.

Tashok’s mind registers the smell of the now cooked eggs and its various vegetables.

“Oh yes…” she smiles as she slips a random bounty note in lieu of a bookmark before lifting herself up.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Tashok scours the house looking for Inigo, though her search turns up empty. She almost takes this as a sign to let the subject of whatever is bothering Inigo drop, but what kind of friend would that make her.

“Have you seen Inigo?” she pokes her head into one of the rooms, where Lucien and Erandur are quietly reading.

“I’m afraid not.” Erandur replies.

“I believe he went outside to train?” Lucien says.

“Thanks!” Tashok turns around, slipping on her College robes — easily the warmest clothes she owns — and walks into the cold day.

She does in fact, find Inigo shooting arrows at her training dummies, hitting it square in the chest each time.

“Pretty sure it’s dead now.” she jokes.

“My friend! What brings you out here?” Inigo smiles, before growing ever so slightly concerned. “You better not be trying to sharpen your archery skills. You have yet to fully recover. And… If I am honest, and this brings me great pain to say this: you are a better marksman, er, markswoman? than me… There I said it. Are you happy? Will that keep you from overworking yourself? But, seriously, though, well done.”

“Oh, uh, eh… Thank you. But, that’s not why I’m here.”

“Oh?”

“You said you wanted to talk… Before the whole… College mess. About Langley?”

Inigo’s shoulders slump.

“Ah. Yes… That.” he looks down. “We should head inside… This might take some time and I would rather we be warm.”

“No complaints here… I’ll make us some tea.” Tashok smiles at him, trying to make him feel better. This must be pretty serious if it dampens his spirits this much.

She sets her robes to the side, leaving her only in her grey pants and cotton shirt. The house is plenty warm, meaning that she’s quite comfortable wearing very little layers. She sets water to boil above the fireplace as she scours the different tea options she could get as Inigo disappears to go clean and store his bow.

Inigo himself doesn’t drink tea very often, and hasn’t made his position on the array of flavours known. What if he hates what she picks, but is too polite to say so?

The water is ready, forcing her to make a decision. She finally settles on something sweet; blueberry tea.

She goes to find him in one of the adjacent rooms, sitting at one of the small tables, deep in though. His concentration breaks as she sets his cup before him gently.

“Now, tell me what’s on your mind.” she sits beside him.

“You see…” he starts. “Langley is a very interesting man. He knows a lot about me and there is a great deal that his visions usually come to pass… All that said we have only just met him. In your heart of hearts, do you think we can trust him?”

This gives Tashok pause. She’d pushed Langley down in a corner of her mind where she pushed most people and things she didn’t want to talk about. At the moment, he was there with Ancald, Alester and Ancano. Bit of an alliterative pattern here, with Langley being the odd one out.

Does she trust him? That’s a good question. As a rule, Tashok both trust and doesn’t trust everyone she meets, in that she assumes the best of them, but wouldn’t be surprised if they tried to hurt her. It creates a lot of conflicting emotions within her, usually rearing their heads in a way that makes her anxious to please, lest they turn on her.

But that’s not what Inigo is asking.

“I… Think he’s doing what he believes is for the best.” she answers. “I don’t believe he’s trying to do anything evil. I think… I think he’s trying to do good.”

Just because someone isn’t personable doesn’t mean they’re evil, after all. And he’s been quite personable to Inigo, neutral to Lucien and somewhat hostile to Tashok. This doesn’t really strike her as out of the ordinary. He has a vetted interest in Inigo, and doesn’t really know Lucien. Makes sense.

“I feel the same way. He has many flaws, but who doesn’t?” Inigo seems more at ease already, though his shoulders remain as tense as ever. “Even though we have just met him, he has been part of my life for years. He is a good man. Hearing your opinion has eased my mind. Thank you my friend.”

“Of course.” Tashok replies, barely above a whisper.

“There is something else I am compelled to mention…” Inigo continues and, ah, there’s the tension again.

“What is it?”

“When you were outside getting those eggs, I told Langley about how you spared my life and my debt to you. He questioned my memory.”

Tashok opens her mouth to speak, but Inigo continues, not to be derailed.

“He said my mind has been through a lot with the skooma, the grief, and the endless battles and so on.” Inigo looks at Tashok, worried. “He suggested that maybe you are not the person I remember.”

“Inigo, that’s what I told you the first time we met.” Tashok says softly, sympathy in her tone.

“What does Langley know anyways!” Inigo huffs, turning his gaze elsewhere as his ears peel back. So much for easing his worries. Seems Inigo is going the denial route. “He does not know you like I do. He does not know about our shared past. No, I will not entertain such a silly idea.”

Tashok once again opens her mouth to — gently — protest, but Inigo pushes on.

“I am not confused. I would know you anywhere.” his voice wavers. “You are my _friend_. End of story. He is just jealous of our friendship. Pay it no mind. Anyway, that is all I wanted to say. Let us talk of other things.”

“Inigo…” Tashok sighs. “We need to talk about who you think I am.”

“Please my friend.” Inigo flinches. “Drop it for now. Maybe later.”

“… Alright.” Tashok concedes dejectedly. “You are right about this: I am your friend.”

She clutches her cup of tea tightly hoping to banish her shaking. This was something she hadn’t thought of much since she began travelling with Inigo. Mainly since he never brought it up.

Now, however, Tashok can’t shake the knowledge that Inigo, this friend that she grew to love and cherish, isn’t even supposed to like her. That his friendship is rooted on the erroneous belief that she’s someone else, and that he owes her a debt.

That his friendship is a lie that the both of them managed to believe.

She should have known better. Should have realized that his kindness, his jokes, his companionship. That all of this was misguided… Directed at the wrong person.

“I’m sorry…” she says tearfully.

His head snaps to her in surprise.

“What? Do not apologize!” Inigo says. “You have done nothing wrong!”

_Except I have_… she thinks bitterly.

She stands up quickly, a bit top quickly, as the chair she was in topples over. She quickly grabs it and settles it back the way it should be.

“I’m going to go read up on how to help Mirabelle.” she says before rushing out of the room.

She’s going to have to set things right sooner rather than later. Though, for her own sake and Inigo’s, not today.


End file.
